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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29855607">At World's Edge</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/latenightiridescence/pseuds/latenightiridescence'>latenightiridescence</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Piece</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Blood and Gore, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, One Shot, Zombie Apocalypse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:07:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29855607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/latenightiridescence/pseuds/latenightiridescence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Shanks calls. Of course he does.</p><p>“Luffy, Makino - whoever’s hearing this, listen closely. There isn’t much time. Some sort of virus is spreading worldwide - I‘m sure you’ve seen it by now - but that’s not the end of it, alright? The infected, they don’t stay dead. I know that sounds crazy, believe me, but it’s true and you need to leave Fuusha before too many awaken. It’s probably even more dangerous, but head to the Grand Line."</p><p>Luffy-centric semi-modern day zombie AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks &amp; Monkey D. Luffy, Makino &amp; Monkey D. Luffy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>At World's Edge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Who wants this old weirdly!modern zombie AU oneshot I wrote? Nobody! But here it is anyway. Angstfest warning.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monkey D. Luffy hung precariously over the edge of his window, upside down so he had a clear view of the sky. He traced the skyline with sleepy eyes ‘til the horizon, that special place where sky met sea, wondering where Shanks was and what he was doing, if maybe he was staring at the same spot he was. The thought made him smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Luffy!” a voice called. He scraped his head along the brick wall to get a good look at Makino, bartender, landlady, and makeshift mother. “You’re going to be late for school.”</p><p> </p><p>“’Kaaaay,” he slurred, though he made no attempt to move. It was days like today he wished for the lazy summer months, when he would nap the afternoons away under the blazing sun.</p><p> </p><p>Luffy dangled there, enjoying the last morning breeze, until he had fifteen minutes to go. It took all of thirty seconds for him to toss on a zip-up vest and jean shorts (sparing only the briefest of glances to check they were remotely clean) and jam his feet into a pair of sandals. On his way out the door, Luffy grabbed his school bag and all-important straw hat, that precious, well-worn promise he’d see Shanks again one day.</p><p> </p><p>Makino was waiting patiently in the bar downstairs, brown sack lunch and breakfast sitting on the counter in front of her. Luffy shoveled eggs, bacon, and toast down his throat and thanked Makino with a mouth full of food. The bartender just shook her head and wiped away the crumbs.</p><p> </p><p>Fuusha was a small village, but it sprawled along the coast of Dawn Island, defiantly taking up as much space as it could. Luffy hightailed it down the beach with sandals slapping against damp sand, waving good morning to the other dawdling kids as they raced towards the school building. The black haired teen soon left them in his dust; years of play in the perilous forests of Mount Colbo had gifted Luffy with strength and speed beyond the norm. He’d earned the affectionate nickname ‘Monster’ among his classmates.</p><p> </p><p>He slowed as the school came into view, an old brick structure set back an obscenely short distance from the beach. There was no playground. Instead, the children frolicked in the sand during recess. Luffy ignored the stone steps to leapt easily up the incline and found himself instantly mobbed by kids. Fuusha school housed children of all ages, and now the youngest bunch swarmed around his feet like puppies. Luffy grinned and mussed whichever upturned head was closest.</p><p> </p><p>A teacher stepped outside to ring the cowbell, an improvised call to class. The crowd of waiting kids trickled through the door and split into smaller groups by grade level. There were five classrooms in all, each containing three grades, except for the last room. It was that room, set aside especially for twelfth graders, that Luffy wandered into. He was greeted by loud cries of ‘Yo, Monster!’ and ‘Mornin’, Straw Hat!’ The latter nickname was the one Luffy preferred by far - it never failed to remind him of Shanks. He plopped into his customary window seat and dumped the contents of his backpack onto his desk.</p><p> </p><p>Luffy gnawed idly on a pencil already dented with bite marks and watched white sea foam creep hypnotically up the sand. By the time their teacher began class, he was fast asleep.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>After his refreshing nap - the school staff had given up on Luffy long ago; unless it was something the boy found interesting, it was a waste of time trying to keep him focused -  he’d managed to start a food fight and keep it going for a good twenty minutes, his personal record. It was totally worth the month of detentions he’d been smacked with. This was his last year, and he had every intention of leaving behind a legacy that his juniors could enjoy.</p><p> </p><p>“Shishishi,” he laughed into the late afternoon stillness. “I wonder what Makino made for dinner? Oooh, I hope it’s steak!” He bounded happily through the open doorway of the Party Bar, prepared to shout “I’m home!” at the usual patrons, but stalled out as he realized the bar was empty. The place was normally crammed full of cheerful villagers, ready to take a load off after a long day’s work of fishing or farming. Now it was lifeless and deafeningly quiet. If there was one think Luffy didn’t like, it was silence.</p><p> </p><p>“Makino?” He sniffed the air but there was only the faintest trace of delicious food smell. Makino had not begun dinner, and out of everything, it was this that struck Luffy as being very, very wrong. Not once had Luffy ever returned to such a stale scent.</p><p> </p><p>He vaulted over the bar and entered the kitchen, where Makino and her part-time help could always be found cooking. The immaculate room was now cluttered with dirty dishes and cold scraps of food Luffy recognized from the lunch menu. The amber liquid of spilled beer pattered over the edge of a counter and seeped across the grey tiled floor. Luffy grabbed a rag to drop across the spill. Makino would be angry if she saw her kitchen in such a state.</p><p> </p><p>He charged out of the kitchen and upstairs, where the door Makino’s bedroom was cracked open. Luffy slammed his way inside, only to find Makino sprawled across the floor, shivering but conscious. One eyelid lifted briefly at the noise he’d made, but slid shut as if the simple action was exhausting. With an unfamiliar feeling prickling his throat, Luffy gently carried Makino to her bed, pulling the sheet up to her chin uncertainly. The barkeeper was panting for breath and sweating heavily. Her forehead seared the back of his hand. Was he supposed to cover someone who was so hot already?</p><p> </p><p>“Luffy…” Makino hissed, so softly it was little more than an exhalation. “Are you alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine! What happened? Where is everyone?”</p><p> </p><p>Makino gave a small shake of her head. “I don’t know. After lunch they were all feeling ill so I sent everyone home. I felt a little tired myself, so I closed the bar and came up here to rest but then the phone rang, and I-” She coughed weakly and struggled for breath, and Luffy froze the tiny bead of blood that appeared on her lips, “I collapsed trying to answer it.”</p><p> </p><p>“You stay here and take it easy,” he said. “I’m gonna go get the doctor.”</p><p> </p><p>Makino covered Luffy’s hand where it lay tangled in the blankets, smiling sadly. “Be careful and hurry back. And Luffy-” She tightened her fingers around his wrist as he stood, “it was Shanks that called.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he whispered thickly, nudging sweaty strands of hair away from her red skin. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Luffy flew down the empty asphalt streets, the shock of each pounding step twanging painfully through his tense leg muscles as he hurried towards the single clinic Fuusha had to offer. He caught a glimpse of a hand peeking shyly from beneath a thatch of bushes and almost stopped on instinct. But it was the horror overflowing from the clinic doors that had Luffy skidding to a halt.</p><p> </p><p>Half the village had tried to cram inside all at once in a crazed frenzy and now torn and bleeding bodies littered the front steps. For the first time in his life Luffy was grateful for the rough and uncertain childhood he’d lived through; not even the sight of people he’d known for years wounded so terribly could faze him for long, though the sick feeling he’d first experienced at Makino’s bedside doubled in intensity. He edged carefully around the corpses, noticing that some were still breathing the same shallow, uneasy breaths Makino struggled for. Luffy let them lie. He had no idea what sort of disorder the clinic was in.</p><p> </p><p>Luffy may have lived near a trash heap for years before moving in with Makino, but not even the concentrated smell of rotting waste could compare to the raw stench that assaulted Luffy’s nose as he approached the entrance. Pressing a hand to his nose and mouth in a futile attempt to block out the rancid, summer-baked blood and vomit, Luffy steeled himself and stepped inside.</p><p> </p><p>The waiting area had been ripped apart in a fit of riotous fear, the desperate battering on the walls and furniture and eventually each other, even the clinic staff; the ruined face of what had once been the prettiest nurse stared up at Luffy with her single remaining eye as he nudged a body away from the door that lead to the patient rooms. There were far fewer bodies in this part of the building, and Luffy felt hope for the first time. Maybe the doctor was holed up in a closet or something? Cautiously lowering his hand, he took a shallow breath and judged the fresher air tolerable.</p><p> </p><p>“Doc?” Luffy shuffled further down the tiled hall and glanced into every room he passed. Occasionally he find a corpse or unconscious villager sprawled across exam tables, but he couldn’t hear even the slightest sounds of the living. Still, he diligently searched through the entire clinic, eventually ending up outside the very last room: the doctor’s private office.</p><p> </p><p>And the doctor <em>was</em> in, though he wouldn‘t be helping anyone. Luffy’s heart sank; the white clothed man sat behind his desk, neat as you please, but the headrest of his expensive, high-backed chair was smeared with bloody lumps, courtesy of the gun that lay cushioned by plush carpet. He wasn’t alone. Slumped against the wall was the doctor’s wife, cheek gouged open and blouse riddled with bullet holes. Luffy remember meeting her only once before, years ago, when she’d rewarded him with a lollipop for bearing those nasty school shots, no tears in sight.</p><p> </p><p>Throat tight, he turned away and left them in peace.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> The walk back to Makino was a slow one, as Luffy racked his brain for anywhere else he could go for help. Though most of the village was sick and insane he still felt pretty healthy, and if he was alright then maybe there were at least a few others. Maybe he’d try the school; he’d left only a couple of hours ago and the few teachers there had seemed fine. Luffy clenched his fists, determined. Until he was dead himself or found every other person in Fuusha dead or dying, he wouldn’t give up. But first, he’d check on Makino. If she had…if she was…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>No! Don’t even think it.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>So Luffy returned to the Party Bar, heart trembling in his chest and so filled with terror and worry he could barely breathe. He gripped Makino’s door with quaking fingers but pulled it open without hesitation and he-</p><p> </p><p>He simply stood for a moment, lungs heaving as if he’d been screaming, and then the blood rush fogging his ears subsided and Luffy realized he <em>was</em> screaming. For Makino, for grandpa, for big brother. Tears welled and flooded unchecked and Luffy felt seven again, that terrible day he’d been told a precious friend would not be coming home, when disabling grief shut him down and he’d done nothing but cry and scream and cry and scream.</p><p> </p><p>Stepping away from the blood reaching towards him, Luffy made his way downstairs, foot slipping in a sandal he now noticed was torn, and behind the bar where their answering machine blinked insensibly away. Shanks would know what was happening. Shanks would know what killed Makino.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Luffy, Makino - whoever’s hearing this, listen closely. There isn’t much time. Some sort of virus is spreading worldwide - I‘m sure you’ve seen it by now - but that’s not the end of it, alright? The infected, they don’t stay dead. I know that sounds crazy, believe me, but it’s true and you need to leave Fuusha before too many awaken. It’s probably even more dangerous, but head to the Grand Line. There’s a safe</em>-”</p><p> </p><p>Shank was cut off. Luffy could faintly hear the sounds of a scuffle, and a familiar voice calling out. Yasopp, who had a son the same age as him. There was a burst of static as Shanks dropped the phone, then nothing.</p><p> </p><p>Feeling dizzy, Luffy let his legs give out and deposit him on cool wood. What did Shanks mean about the sick not staying dead? It sounded like the plot of a lame zombie movie. But he didn’t have the chance to think anymore, because nausea suddenly hit him hard and fast in the gut, forcing him to roll over and brace against the clench and strain of muscle. Only that wasn’t lunch oozing down his chin; it was blood he choked up, over and over. An unbelievable amount, staining his hands, his legs, his clothes. An ocean to match the one within which Makino lay face down and motionless.</p><p> </p><p>Sweat stung his eyes and his vision edged black, leaving Luffy to wonder if he would die this way. To wonder if it even mattered.</p><p> </p><p>He was already in hell.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Luffy didn’t know how long he was unconscious.</p><p> </p><p>He stared down at his bloodstained hands in absolute confusion. Hadn’t he caught the sickness that killed everyone else? Even if he’d been somehow immune the amount of blood Luffy had choked up was no joke. The thick crust of dried, lumpy liquid made it hard to move his face.</p><p> </p><p>But if he’d survived, could it be possible Makino had too? Luffy shakily rose to his feet, body aching so fiercely he used the wall for support as he climbed upstairs to see for certain what his heart already knew. When he arrived at Makino’s door, the need to open it was negated by the stench and sense of utter silence. Luffy couldn’t hear breathing even if he strained.</p><p> </p><p>So he went back to Makino’s pristine kitchen, turned the sink on full blast, used a pretty blue hand towel to scrub himself clean. By the time he’s finished, the counter, faucet, everything was slathered in diluted red. His clothes were disgusting - he dumped them on the floor of his bedroom and changed into whatever he could find. There was no reason to be picky.</p><p> </p><p>It was bright outside. The sun still shone on, warming a vacant village. Luffy wandered with the vague hope that there would be at least one other survivor. Eventually, his search paid off; stumbling towards him was a very drunk, very beat up mayor.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay?” Luffy yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth to project the sound. “It looks like someone got you good.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t answer. Luffy hurried to his side, worried the mayor was hurt worse than he seemed. There was blood congealing on his chin, more than you’d ordinarily find after a punch to the face; Luffy tilted Whoop Slap’s head up for a better look and could only see the whites of his eyes, as if the man was walking while unconscious.</p><p> </p><p>Luffy poked him in the shoulder just to make sure. “Hello?”</p><p> </p><p>Apparently the mayor <em>wasn’t</em> out cold like he’d thought. It took a moment to register, but then Luffy realized there were teeth sinking into his forearm. Whoop Slap had bitten him.</p><p> </p><p>“O-oi!” It was odd. They mayor’s teeth weren’t particularly sharp, but Luffy knew from past experience they should be breaking through flesh. Instead, his skin and muscle was giving beneath the pressure, flattening out like a pancake. Oddest of all: Luffy felt no pain. “Let me go!”</p><p> </p><p>His grip was relentless. Luffy tugged and pushed at the other man without budging him at all, and Luffy could feel his temper rising. “If you don’t let go on your own, I’ll make you!”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want to injure Whoop Slap - the old man had tried to save him when he was taken hostage by the mountain bandits - but in the end Luffy got fed up and hit him in the nose. There was a sickening sound as the bone caved.</p><p> </p><p>They mayor’s hold slackened only the slightest bit, but with his arm slick with blood and saliva it was enough for Luffy to pull free. He retreated, shuffling back several steps in an effort to regain his bearings, and this time took a longer look at Whoop Slap.</p><p>His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, pale skin tinged the blue of oxygen deprivation. The stilted, jerky advance Luffy had originally mistaken for drunkenness was more akin to a loss of fine motor control, as if Whoop Slap could no longer make his body respond properly, arms flailing spastically, legs wobbly and weak-kneed, barely able to take his weight. Blood drenched the lower half of his face and clothes, his shirt stiff and sticky with dry fluid. It flaked on crooked fingers.</p><p>Luffy was smart enough to put two and two together; the mayor had also vomited up a great deal of blood, just like him and Makino. In the process of staring at all that dried blood, brain struggling to slot the final pieces into place, Luffy came to a jarring realization.</p><p><em>Ah</em>, Luffy though, <em>he’s not breathing</em>.</p><p>He threw caution to the wind and approached Whoop Slap once more, sought that place on his neck – the one Ace taught him about a lifetime ago – and…found no pulse. The mayor got his mouth on Luffy’s shoulder, gnawing restlessly, but again there was no pain. Luffy stood there and let him. He was thinking of Shanks’ message: <em>Some sort of virus is spreading worldwide - I‘m sure you’ve seen it by now - but that’s not the end of it, alright? The infected, they don’t stay dead.</em></p><p>
  <em>They don’t stay dead.</em>
</p><p>Not entirely true; Whoop Slap was very dead. But, dead or not, he <em>was</em> walking – if you could call convulsive hobbling ‘walking’ – almost like a puppet. The word felt right, perfectly describing the mayor’s wooden movement, a puppet flopping helplessly as the strings it was attached to twisted every which way at the whim and fancy of those who manipulated them.</p><p>And what – who – was behind the coiling of these particular strings?</p><p>Whoever it may be…</p><p>They’d murdered Makino.</p>
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